


A Chance Encounter

by BeanieBaby



Series: Senator Obi-Wan AU [8]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Everyone is chaotic and gives zero fucks, Except Commander Fox, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Light recreational stalking, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Vos fails to woo Fox with flawless paperwork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:35:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25272520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeanieBaby/pseuds/BeanieBaby
Summary: He glanced up at the female Twi’lek standing in his doorway. She bit her lip, looking distinctly uncomfortable to be there.Fox set his datapad down, “May I help you?”Bly’s Jedi general sucked in a deep breath and blurted out, “I would like to apologize for my former master’s inappropriate behavior.”“Former master?”“Quinlan Vos,” She said with an embarrassed grimace, “I was recently made aware of the fact that he has been…following you these past weeks, commander.”
Relationships: CC-1010 | Fox & Kit Fisto, CC-1010 | Fox & Quinlan Vos, CC-1010 | Fox/Quinlan Vos, CC-5052 | Bly & Aayla Secura, CC-5052 | Bly/Aayla Secura
Series: Senator Obi-Wan AU [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1785886
Comments: 54
Kudos: 773





	A Chance Encounter

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [An Exercise in Violence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24989131) by [BeanieBaby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeanieBaby/pseuds/BeanieBaby). 



> Pure crack. Bly needs some love.

He glanced up at the female Twi’lek standing in his doorway. She bit her lip, looking distinctly uncomfortable to be there.

Fox set his datapad down, “May I help you?”

Bly’s Jedi general sucked in a deep breath and blurted out, “I would like to apologize for my former master’s inappropriate behavior.”

“Former master?”

“Quinlan Vos,” She said with an embarrassed grimace, “I was recently made aware of the fact that he has been…following you these past weeks, commander.”

Fox felt the onset of a migraine just at the mention of that cursed name. He heaved a sigh and almost reached up to massage his aching temple but remembered at the last moment that his bucket was still on. She seemed to understand his frustration just based off of the aborted gesture alone.

“I will make him stop,” She promised.

Fox grunted and picked up his paperwork.

“Anything else I can help you with, General Secura?”

* * *

“So?”

“He has zero interest in you,” Aayla informed him, taking a seat next to Quinlan on the rooftop of the building he had picked as their rendezvous spot. It was opposite the senate building and had a perfect view of Commander Fox’s office. She could spot the back of his helmet from where she stood. “In fact, I’d say negative interest if that were possible.”

“Oh, come on, Aayla.”

“He nearly cried in relief when I offered to kill you and bury your dead body in a ditch,” She lied with a straight face.

“No, he didn’t.”

“Not in those exact words, but the message was crystal clear,” Aayla shrugged before nudging him in his side, “why are you so obsessed with him anyway? I thought you hated the clones.”

“I said I disliked _your_ clone. There’s a difference, kiddo,” Quinlan murmured absently, peering through his binoculars. Fox had just gotten up and left his office.

“Why would you dislike Bly?” She huffed indignantly. “He’s literally the sweetest person in the galaxy. He’s so smart and patient, and he’s always there when I need him.”

Quinlan glanced sideways at her. His former apprentice was chewing on a piece of meat jerky that she’d fished out of his stakeout bag. He always packed random snacks for her back when they were Master and Padawan, and the habit hadn’t changed even after that relationship had ended.

“That’s because he wants to bang you like a screen door in a hurricane, Aayla,” He informed her gravely.

Aayla went purple in the span of two seconds.

“No, he doesn’t!” She squeaked, scooting frantically away from him. Quinlan shrugged and went back to his light recreational stalking. The commander had exited the senate building and was walking east, toward a small patch of greens that functioned as a park in the heart of the metal metropolis that was Coruscant.

“Does he really?” Aalya was back. She sounded oddly breathless.

“You want to see how far down those gold tattoos go, don’t you?” He met her wide, mortified eyes and sighed, “Just…make him wear protection and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, ok?”

“I hate you so much,” She muttered, burying her flaming face in her hands.

“Are you finally gonna stop dancing around and do him?” He prompted her.

“…Yes.” Aayla aimed a withering glare at Quinlan, “but not because you told me to.”

“I didn’t tell you to.”

“Well, too bad. I’m still going to do it,” She snapped defensively, “I’m going to do him…Bly…” She fanned her flushed face and exhaled shakily, “Oh, Force. I can’t—”

“The hell?” Quinlan interrupted. A tall familiar figure had just fallen into step next to _his_ commander, and Fox didn’t even react. His shoulders were still relaxed and at ease.

Kit Fisto leaned in and murmured something. Fox nodded and the Nautolan Jedi master put a large hand on the commander’s back to guide him down another street. Then, Kit turned ever-so-slightly, peered straight into Quinlan’s binocs, and winked.

That fucker.

He abandoned his espionage attempt and rose to his feet. Quinlan dropped over the edge of the building onto a soft sunroof below, startling a nearby food vendor who shook an angry fist at the Jedi. He ignored the man and sauntered out into the sunlit street.

“What does that Kit Fisto have that I don’t?”

“He’s super charismatic and really good-looking,” Aayla said bluntly, trailing after him after shooting the merchant an apologetic smile.

“No, he’s not,” Quinlan dismissed, “he just randomly strips naked all the time. You’d think I was hot too if I did that.”

“I would never think you were hot.”

He gave her the stink eye. “Why, Aayla? Why would you not think me hot?”

“Because you’re like my dad! It's disgusting.”

“Ok, point taken,” Quinlan muttered, “but I’d still be hot. Just not to you.”

“Why am I even here having this conversation with you?” Aayla wondered out loud, “I should be taking advantage of my leave instead of enabling your sudden creepy obsession with Commander Fox.”

“By 'taking advantage of your leave,' you mean screwing your clone commander through his standard-issued bunk?”

She blushed again. “Don’t make it sound so vulgar.”

“I’d feel sorry for that man if he wasn’t gagging for it.”

“Don’t talk about my Bly like that,” Aayla glared fiercely at him. “At least he likes me back.”

Quinlan paused in his steps and gave her a look.

“Sorry, that was unnecessarily mean,” Aayla conceded, “but for the sake of transparency, I don’t think you have a fighting chance against Kit.”

“You’re supposed to be on my side, Aayla,” Quinlan griped at her, “what does he see in Fisto?”

They had the two in their sights, the park being not too far from Quinlan’s hideout. Kit wasn’t doing anything untoward, and by all outward appearances, they seemed to be having a very one-sided conversation. But Fisto kept not-so-discreetly brushing up against the clone commander as they walked. To Quinlan’s annoyance, Fox wasn’t shoving him away like he did with everyone else.

Quinlan picked up a stone from the ground and chucked it at the back of Kit’s head. The other Jedi effortlessly sidestepped his shot, taking the opportunity to press close to the clone commander walking at his side. Fox lifted a hand to steady him, still oblivious to their exchange. Quinlan seethed.

“Bly says he’s got a thing for perfectly filed paperwork,” Aayla said, glancing up from her comm, “maybe you could start there.”

* * *

“Aayla, wake up.”

Quinlan vaulted into her bedroom via the window. It was still dark, the sun not yet over the sleepy horizon. He flipped on the switch, flooding his former padawan’s apartment in artificial light. It was a mess. Bottles from the dresser strewn all over the carpeted floor, chairs upturned, and mirrors cracked.

Either someone tried to murder Aayla or Commander Bly finally banged her like a screen door in a hurricane last night.

The large lump in the middle of the bed shifted and her tired, irritated face poked out. “Go away, Quin.”

“I need to talk to your commander,” Quinlan said, picking out a small unopened bag of Alderaan chocolates from the chaos and tearing it open. He dumped half of it into his mouth and chewed noisily.

“He’s not here,” Aayla lied as a purple flush crawled up her neck. The bottom half of the bed lump quivered. Quinlan grabbed a loose piece of metal that had once functioned as room decor and prodded what he guessed was Bly’s ass.

A muffled yelp, and Commander Bly of the 327th Star Corps tumbled out of Aayla’s bed fully nude.

“Put some pants on,” Quinlan lifted his eyes to the ceiling and waited while he scrambled about looking for his discarded uniform.

“Bly, here,” Aayla hurled a pair of wrinkled trousers at her lover’s head.

His face was chalky pale when he snapped to attention, Aayla’s black bra still hooked into the waistband of his grays.

“Sir, I can explain—”

“At ease, Commander Bly,” Quinlan waved a hand, "She’s a grown woman who can make her own choices. I’m definitely not one to lecture either of you.”

He felt a spark of affection from Aayla through their residual Master-Padawan bond. Bly relaxed minutely. Quinlan glanced at the Twi’lek Jedi.

“So, how far down do they go?” He asked.

Bly blinked in confusion. “How far does what go?”

“Very far down,” Aayla smirked, licking her lips and burrowing further into her rumpled bed with a satisfied sigh. Bly slapped a palm over his face and groaned.

“Alright, I need to borrow you for a few hours, lover boy,” He said, beckoning to the clone trooper.

“For what, sir?” Bly asked, rounding the bed after shrugging on his shirt. Aayla caught his wrist and reeled him in for a kiss.

“Don’t take too long,” She whispered against his lips.

Quinlan rolled his eyes and dragged the dazed clone commander out of Secura’s bedroom by the back of his shirt.

* * *

_Wulff Yularen._

Fox stared down at the name on his datapad. Then, he looked up at the man leaning in the doorway of his office.

“Everything’s filed to perfection,” Quinlan Vos grinned.

Fox scanned the forms. Everything was indeed filed correctly, but—

“This is a request for maternity leave,” He pointed out, “filed on behalf of a human _male_ Admiral in the Republic Navy.”

Vos winced, “Yeah, the other available forms were all backlogged in the processing office, and I didn’t want to wait.”

“I take it that Admiral Yularen has not transcended his biological limitation and gotten himself pregnant then,” Fox said, setting the datapad down on his desk and rising to his feet.

“No, but I just submitted some _flawless paperwork,”_ Vos preened, eyeing Fox with that familiar leering glint in his amber eyes, “Are you proud? Better yet, are you super horny right now?”

A beat of silence passed between them.

The Jedi cleared his throat and said, “wanna bang?”

Fox pulled out his blasters and thumbed them to the KILL setting.

“Vos, I will give you three seconds to get the hell out of my office.”

**Author's Note:**

> Quinlan just doesn't get it. lol.
> 
> Kit was just messing with Quinlan :)


End file.
